


Needs Must

by Olcanarmo



Series: Statue [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-18 00:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20630246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olcanarmo/pseuds/Olcanarmo
Summary: Set after the end of Season Four. Chloe and Lucifer team up one more time, despite the difficulty of their respective locations.





	Needs Must

“Has Ms Lopez gone?” asked the corpse.

Chloe’s head whipped around and down before she could decide that perhaps she didn’t want to see this.

The body she was crouching next to looked back. 6 foot white male, blond hair, fatal stab wound… blue eyes that surely hadn’t been open before?

“Hello, Detective,” said the dead man. His head had tilted slightly where he lay, and although the features weren’t familiar, heaven help her, she knew the smile.

Her lungs wouldn’t work. But if there was one greeting she was always, _ always _ going to answer from now on...

She drew in a thread of breath and managed a pathetically small “Lu.. Lucifer?”

“Is the coast clear?” he asked. “It’s not terribly comfortable lying here and I’m afraid we have work to do.”

“We what? What?! Is that you?” she hissed. “What’s going on?”

“Decker?” Ella’s voice came from behind her. Chloe jumped to her feet and span around, instinctively putting herself between the corpse and scrutiny. The dead man had been found in the front yard of the house and Ella wasn’t the only one nearby. Uniformed officers controlled the crowd, the coroner’s van waited, and a street full of neighbours were pretending they always spent the afternoon gazing out of the window.

“Are you talking to that body?” Ella asked. “Because I get it: trying to get into the mindset of the vic. No judgement here! But I gotta tell you, people will think you’re weird when you do that. Voice of experience, if you know what I mean.”

“No. No, you’re right, I just…” Chloe looked over her shoulder. The corpse was still. Eyes shut. 

Ella tugged on her arm and moved them a few steps away. “Anyway, the coroners need to bag our guy and get him down to the morgue. I told them we were done.” She sounded concerned.

“Mmm-hmm… Ella, you would have told me if there was anything strange here, right?” Chloe asked.

“Awww, of course I would, Chloe. But he’s a perfectly normal dead guy. Probably the wife did it. You’ll have it all tied up by the end of the day.” Ella patted her arm.

And Chloe might have believed it, only as the coroners zipped up the body bag and stepped away to fetch the trolley she heard, very faintly, “Oh, bloody hell.”

Ella had been overly protective since Lucifer had gone, and Chloe couldn’t think of any way to escape the crime scene without drawing attention and possibly hugs. An anxious hour passed and the sun was setting on an emptying street when she parked outside the morgue to consider her options. The straightforward approach - walking in, showing her badge, and announcing that her former partner was possessing a corpse - seemed like a quick route to a padded room in a hospital somewhere. Could she break in?

She jumped as the rear door of her car slammed open and the dead man she’d spoken to earlier flung himself onto the back seat.

“Good of you to come, Detective,” he gasped. 

“Lucifer!” she cried. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! What are you doing? I mean, how are you here? It is you, isn’t it? I thought I was going to have to burgle a morgue!”

“No need,” he said. “Security is very lax in morgues. It’s as if they’re not expecting the bodies to get up and walk out. And yes, it’s me. I wouldn’t have dreamt of imposing on you so soon after saying goodbye, but we have a bit of a problem. Would you mind driving me to the penthouse and then I’ll explain?”

Chloe started the car and headed into traffic. She wasn’t sure she was in any state to be driving, but the only other person in the car was dead and presumably didn’t have a license.

“What’s at the penthouse?” she asked.

“Clean clothes and a shower,” Lucifer said grimly. “I’m wearing jeans, Detective. And I’m possessing a corpse and feeling very much in need of basic personal hygiene.”

“I thought Maze said you banned possession?” She tried to meet his eyes in the rear-view mirror, hoping for a clue to the situation.

“I did,” he replied, “but I can’t _ physically _ leave Hell right now; no telling what they’d do if they thought I was missing again so soon. This was the only way to keep my bum on the throne and my mind up here.”

Chloe took the turning towards Lux. “I can’t believe you stole that body,” she said. “He was _ murdered_, Lucifer. We need an autopsy.”

“Well, you can’t have one right now,” he said. “I’m using this. And anyway his wife did it, and from what he’s told me she deserves a head start.”

Chloe bit her tongue until they arrived at the penthouse and Lucifer went to shower. The place had been shut up when he left and she wandered around in the soft, amber light pulling sheets off the furniture. Whatever had brought Lucifer back to LA, this was hardly the reunion she’d been hoping for.

Lucifer made quick work of getting clean, and walked back in tugging at the cuffs of a shirt that didn’t quite fit. 

“The shoulders are all wrong,” he complained. “And whatever the more simple-minded members of the public say, I was never meant to be blond.”

Chloe nodded. The suit was too dark for him and he looked washed out. “Is the old you still…around?”

“Yes, fear not, Detective. I’m gracing Hell with my physical presence as we speak. Untouched and as good-looking as ever. I suppose eventually they’ll notice I’m not particularly talkative, but you’ve got to be quite determined to approach the throne so we have a bit of time.”

Chloe’s feet took her slowly towards him and she lifted her face to study him more closely. He was breathing, but terribly pale.

“You know, I would never have worried about your Devil face if I’d known this was the alternative,” she said. She had meant it to be a joke but it sounded wrong even as she said it. He backed away and perched on a chair beyond her reach.

“Yes, tell me about it,” he said. “Shall we just get on?”

“On with what?” she asked. “Lucifer, why are you here?” 

“You can thank Dromos for that,” Lucifer said. “He decided to curry favour when we returned to Hell.”

Chloe felt her temper rise. “Favour? After all that he did? After Charlie?”

Disappointingly, Lucifer didn’t share her anger. He shrugged. “Demons aren’t known for being good people, Detective. He sulked for a good while, but then he decided to show a bit of initiative and conduct a head count of those who’d returned to Hell. And he came up one short.”

“Oh no, Lucifer.” She shook her head, denying it. “They all went back. I saw them.”

His disturbingly blue eyes finally met hers, willing her to understand the problem. “Yes, but were there any who weren’t in the Mayan in the first place? Are you missing a body?”

Chloe forced herself to take a breath and think. Now was not the time to stop being a cop. “Not that we know of,” she said slowly, “but it _ would _ be hard to tell. They killed most of their victims in the church, so there was a lot of blood there. No knowing who it all belonged to.”

“And how did my former colleagues explain the bodies at the Mayan?” he asked.

“The working theory is that Father Kinley started a cult. He got his followers to sacrifice themselves to aliens, or elves, or whatever. They were so hyped up by him that they got from the church to the Mayan despite considerable blood loss, and then completed the ritual there.”

Lucifer scoffed and his eyebrows rose. “‘Despite considerable blood loss’?” he repeated. “That’s a truly terrible theory, Detective.”

“I know,” Chloe groaned. “And I think Ella’s covering for me. I think she knows something’s up.”

“Well, she does have… oh never mind. I leave the LAPD alone for 5 minutes.” He winced and added, “Relatively speaking. Humour me for a moment… A demon gets summoned by Dromos. Pops into a dead body. Bit of a free thinker, decides Dromos’ plan isn’t for him, slips out of the back door of the church before they all head to the Mayan. Who’s to know?”

Chloe considered it. “Well, no one, I guess. Not straight away. Lucifer, that’s awful.”

“Yes. And the only people who can stop him are those who believe in these things _ and _ care enough to do something about it. It’s a lamentably short list, so here we are.” He spread his hands.

“Stop him from doing what?” she asked.

“I wish I knew. The demon’s name is Harat and he was always a bit too keen. If you’ve got people for whom punishing is a job here,” he poked at a point in the air, “and then you’ve got Maze enjoying herself over here,” a stab to the right of the first spot, “Harat is over there somewhere using excessive force.” He waved his hand in the direction of the LA skyline.

Chloe was aghast. “Lucifer, you can’t stay down there with people like that.”

“They’re not all like that, Detective,” he said quietly. “Maze wasn’t. And do you remember Linda’s ex-husband? He’s down there. I visit him quite a bit.”

“You torture him?” Chloe asked, hoping that she hadn’t misjudged him after all, but Lucifer was staring past her and had missed the significance of the question.

“No, he’s torturing himself with visions from the past,” Lucifer said. “It’s like visiting old friends.”

Chloe’s throat hurt. “Mmm-hmm,” she said. “OK. Well. If we have to find a demon, I’m going to make some calls and see if anyone’s reported anything weird.”

She dialled the precinct, watching while Lucifer stood and poured himself a drink. The movement of his hands and wrists was right, but the bones of them were wrong. She wanted to cry. It must have been obvious because he looked over and flinched when he saw her expression.

She forced herself to finish the conversation and put the phone away. “They’re going to call me back if they find anything,” she said, moving towards him. “And I think there are some things we should talk about while we wait.”

Lucifer set his drink carefully on the piano, and in the dim light he turned to watch her come, preparing to hear her out. His eyes were defenceless as they met hers, and she felt equally exposed. _ This _was what she’d missed more than anything. It wasn’t that he’d ever lied to her, but every so often he dropped all his jokes and evasions, and gifted her with a moment of pure honesty. Every time she thought she couldn’t bear the storm, he showed her the peace at the heart of it. She had so many memories - of a dance, of an axe - but there was one she needed to discuss while she had the chance.

“Last time we were here, on the balcony… I know I was crying hard enough to make everything a little blurry… but you seemed… almost peaceful,” she said.

“I suppose I was,” he agreed. “My own tears notwithstanding.”

“Why?” she whispered, knowing the answer.

“Because you finally stopped bewildering me, Detective,” he said. “Over the years, I’ve been rather unsure of where I stood, with you and… and with myself. At that moment on my balcony I wasn’t unsure of either of us. Even if the worst was about to happen. It was a... comfort.”

Chloe nodded. She remembered the sense of belonging he’d conveyed with a kiss, even as he’d said goodbye. Perhaps they should have kissed more in the interest of communication. But perhaps she didn’t even need that much to know the direction his thoughts were taking now. She could read blue eyes as easily as brown.

“So even now that we’re sure of each other, if we find Harat you’re planning to go back to Hell with him,” she stated.

“Yes, this is a temporary arrangement,” he acknowledged. “And less than ideal.”

“And then… and then what, Lucifer?” she asked. “I can’t keep looking at corpses and wondering if you’ll pop up and say hello. I can’t keep saying _ goodbye_.” 

“I wasn’t planning on a repeat performance, Detective,” he said bitterly. “I wasn’t planning on coming back at all. I’m sorry for involving you in this.”

Aaaand he was right back to misunderstanding her. Chloe sighed. “I’m not sorry that you’re here,” she said. “Lucifer, I have missed you _ so much_.” Her voice cracked and the next sigh was more of a sob. “I’m just sorry you’re here like this. I’m sorry we can’t be together properly.”

And while he was conveniently trapped against the curve of the piano, she closed the last of the space between them and hugged him.

His arms came around her and they stood like that for some time. His chest was a little chilly where her face pressed against his shirt, and the hand resting on top of her hair was downright cold. She hadn’t appreciated him enough before. She should have hugged him so many more times when he’d been warm, and alive, and _ himself_. Tears heated her cheeks and seeped into cool cotton.

Finally, he murmured, “I can’t keep you safe from up here, Chloe. I have to go back for good.”

She pushed away, giving him the best glare she could manage with eyes still red from crying. “Like hell you do,” she said. “I’m a cop. I keep other people safe. Lucifer, you’ve got to think of a way around this, OK? If you don’t, I will. We can solve this. It’s what we do.” She hated that she sounded desperate when she needed to be convincing.

“Detective, I…” he began.

She didn’t give him time to disagree.

“I want you here,” she said. “The real you.”

He looked doubtful. “Wings and all, Detective? Feathers or not?”

“Yes,” she said, simply. 

His lips twitched but fell short of a smile. “Possible devil face?”

“Yes,” she said, offering him a wobbly smile of her own. “Don’t _ you _ know that, Lucifer? I thought we’d covered this. I want you here with me. Face, wings, all of you. Just, you know, alive and not blond.”

“Do you have something against blonds?” He teased.

“They’re just not my type. But I quite liked the wings,” she dared to add, willing away the blush that threatened her cheeks.

Lucifer’s smile was back and cheerfully lascivious. “Well, in _ that _ case, Detective,” he said, “I’ll have to give our situation some thought.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Lucifer! You did not just ignore everything I said except for that!”

“No,” he said, more seriously. “I didn’t. I missed you too, Detective. Hell’s always been rather lonely even when one does try to make the best of it. And I’ve become more aware of that of late.”

He reached out to touch her hair and her phone rang.

Chloe dug a pad and pen from her pocket and made notes while the officer on the other end talked.

“OK,” she said to Lucifer when she’d finished the call. “You know that LA’s kind of weird anyway, so there are a lot of possibilities here. But I spoke to Officer Janvier because she has a good instinct, and she says The Monastery of the Angels got broken into last night and nothing was taken. There was some valuable art just left.”

“Detective, _ please _ don’t tell me I have to go and talk to monks,” Lucifer said with comic distress. He went over to the bar to top up his glass, clearly in need of liquid courage.

“You don’t have to go and talk to monks,” Chloe assured him. She waited for him to take a sip of his drink and added, “They’re nuns.” She’d timed it perfectly, and he sputtered and spat the whiskey out. His pained expression gave her what might have been the first laugh she’d had since he’d left. She thumped him on the back while he choked.

“Detective!” he exclaimed, but she couldn’t stop giggling. “Really! I can see I’ve been a bad influence on you. Come on then, let us go and talk to nuns.” He produced car keys from his pocket. “Needs must, and I’m driving.”

Chloe had calmed down by the time they arrived at the monastery. The evening air had cooled her cheeks and being back in the passenger seat of the Corvette had made her a little sad. “I don’t see why we couldn’t take my car,” she said.

“Your car is a police car, Detective.” Lucifer replied. “If things go wrong tonight, it’s best it isn’t traced.”

Chloe didn’t want to think about things going wrong. Or about things going right and Lucifer taking Harat back to Hell. None of their possible futures were fair. If Lucifer’s ‘Dad’ was orchestrating any of this, she was beginning to understand why his son was so angry. She brought her cop face down like a visor. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s just go and see what the nuns have to say.”

Chloe pushed the buzzer by the monastery gate, but the feeble bell seemed to be swallowed by the silent parking lot behind her. The Corvette was a solitary shadow on the asphalt. She brushed her fingers across her badge and the holster of her gun.

“Nervous, Detective?” Lucifer asked. “I don’t blame you. You can’t trust nuns. Terrible gambling habits, some of them have. They spend more time in Vegas than I do.”

“Lucifer! That was one incident, and it wasn’t these nuns.” She took a deeper breath to call “LAPD!” but Lucifer raised his hand.

“Not a good idea, I don’t think, Detective. In fact, I’m inclined to agree with your Officer Janvier. Something’s wrong here and a bit of stealth is called for. Excuse me.”

He reached past her and broke the gate.

Chloe glowered at him. “If we’re wrong, you’re paying to replace that.”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Whatever you say. But I think I should go in alone now.” 

“No,” Chloe said.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because most of these nuns are cloistered, Lucifer. You’re a man, you’re the Devil, and you’re currently a corpse. Three strikes against you.”

She stepped in front of him, hand on her gun. There was still no noise, but surely a monastery was meant to be silent…

A scream came from inside and she was off and running through the garden, Lucifer at her back. The front door was locked and she backpedalled to allow him to kick it off its hinges. The heavy wooden door crashed down onto the tiled floor of a vestibule, and the screaming stopped. They’d obviously gotten someone’s attention.

“LAPD!” Chloe yelled at last, stepping in front of Lucifer again.

Her voice echoed, and then a woman’s voice called “In here.”

Cautiously, Chloe followed the voice into some sort of common room. There was a shabby wooden organ against the left-hand wall, religious statues and a large crucifix set on a table to the right. The other tables had been overturned, scattering cups, knitting and books across the carpet. A dozen or so nuns were tied to chairs that had been dragged free of the mess. Their faces were cut and bruised, and their habits were bloodstained. Some of them were crying, but that didn’t worry Chloe nearly as much as the silent woman whose head dangled at an angle that said she’d lost consciousness.

And a tall old lady in a sensible skirt was holding a knife to the throat of one of nuns.

“Well, I can’t say that I was expecting the police, but come and join the fun.” A smile spread across the demon’s stolen face. “Toss me your gun and maybe the sisters here will live a little longer. Or not.”

“Harat!” Lucifer said from behind Chloe. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!” 

Harat tilted her, or _ his_, head. “My King?” he asked, “is that you?”

“Of course it’s me. Why is it you? This is forbidden, Harat.”

“Well, who could resist?” Harat’s eyes were wide with glee. “I see why you love it here. There’s no waiting for souls to appear on your docket. You can torture anyone you choose. Good people! Nuns with direct tickets to the Silver City! We don’t have to sit in Hell hoping for people who will never arrive. We can come up here and have it all.”

“It’s not your job to have it all,” Lucifer snapped.

“Isn’t it? Maybe it should be. It’s so easy up here, my King. Break into the monastery, hide until the police have gone, and ta-da! Nuns, Lucifer! They’re already so sad and I’ve hardly done anything yet.” He dug the knife in a little harder to make his point and the nun cried out. Her sisters started praying.

“That’s enough,” said Lucifer. “It’s time to go back.”

“God sent you!” cried one of the nuns.

“He really didn’t,” bellowed Lucifer, and as he turned to face the nun who’d spoken, Harat flipped the knife and threw it at Chloe. Lucifer snatched it out of the air before it could touch her, hurling it back at him. Harat ducked and the knife hit the wall just under an oil painting of the Virgin Mary.

“Sorry!” Lucifer said. “Nothing against Mary. A virgin birth’s punishment enough for anyone. Oh, for pity’s sake.”

Harat had pulled and thrown another knife, aiming for Lucifer this time. Lucifer caught this one too, and Harat ducked again, but Lucifer was feinting. The real return throw came as Harat straightened up, and it hit the demon square in the chest.

Watching Lucifer, Chloe could believe he was the King of Hell. Casually unstoppable, he moved elegantly through the fight, dancing where his enemy stumbled. Harat was disoriented, and still off balance from the feint as he tried to pull the knife from his flesh. Lucifer was moving back and reaching for… Chloe’s eyes tracked ahead of her partner and her hand met his on the crucifix.

“No, Lucifer,” she said. Some types of blasphemy were a bit much.

“No?” 

“Here,” she said, and handed him one of the statues. It was a solid bronze sculpture of two figures, and that was all she saw before Lucifer grimaced at it and threw it straight at Harat’s head.

Chloe thought the demon started to dodge, but too late. The statue hit his temple and fell to the floor, breaking in two.

Lucifer was sweeping forward before it landed, stepping behind Harat as he swayed, and reaching round him to grab the handle of the knife that still protruded from his breast.

“That is enough,” Lucifer said. His voice had deepened and roughened, and it made the organ resonate. “We are going BACK.”

Harat twisted and attempted to bite, but Lucifer kept hold of the knife and threw his weight backwards. For a moment Chloe had double vision, as two bodies fell lifeless to the floor and at the same time a space like the Grand Canyon opened behind Lucifer - her Lucifer. Familiar dark eyes met hers, peaceful and full of meaning, while Harat - now a young man with far too many teeth - snarled and fought. And then Lucifer gave her the smallest of smiles, dragged the demon back and down, and was gone.

A small flurry of ash swept over the bodies of the blond man and the old lady, and landed at Chloe’s feet. She blinked and it disappeared.

There was a long period of complete silence in which Chloe didn’t know what to do with herself. Finally one of the nuns drew a sobbing breath and reminded her of her responsibilities. She stepped forward on wooden legs to untie them and noted with some relief that the unconscious woman was coming round, and then she had to sit down for a moment.

“I said, would you like us to call the police?” The nun peering into Chloe’s face sounded like she was repeating herself, but it was the first time Chloe had heard her. 

“No, I can do that,” she said. “I am the police. No! Wait a minute. I don’t know what I’m going to tell them yet.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t tell them anything,” said the nun. “Perhaps you were never here.”

Chloe stared, her brain as broken as her heart.

“I’m Mother Superior here,” said the nun. “And this is a contemplative order. Do you know what that means?”

Chloe shook her head.

“It means we seek to become closer to God through prayer,” Mother Superior explained.

“Uh-huh.” Chloe managed.

“It doesn’t work if you have a closed mind. I don’t think what happened here was entirely… ordinary, was it?” she asked.

“No,” Chloe whispered.

“After you’ve gone, we’ll call the police and tell them that your friend acted on his own to save us. We’ll say we don’t know what happened at the end and we’ll cry. Nuns have a reputation for innocence, you know. Apart from those silly sisters who went to Las Vegas.”

Chloe didn’t know how she could joke after having a knife held to her throat. “Thank you,” she said. “That would be… You’re very kind. He did save you, you know. He’s a good person.”

“I know,” Mother Superior said. “Would you like us to pray for him?”

“Nooo…” said Chloe slowly. “Thank you, but no. He has issues with that sort of thing.”

“Would you like us to pray for you?” the nun offered.

“No!” Chloe exclaimed, and was instantly embarrassed. “It’s just he’s, he was… he _ is _ my partner, and if he has issues with God then I think that I have too. I don’t think his Dad treated him very well. And you know what? _ My _ dad was shot. He might be in Heaven, but he’s not here with me. And my dad would have wanted to be, he would. And Lucifer’s gone and he wanted to be with me too. So maybe I have issues of my own with Lucifer’s Dad.”

“Lucifer?” asked the nun.

“He’s the Devil,” said Chloe, too sad to lie. “And he keeps leaving.”

“Hmmm,” said Mother Superior. Chloe didn’t know how much of her blasphemous outburst the nun had understood or believed. There were some things contemplative orders probably couldn’t contemplate. 

“He didn’t even get to say goodbye this time,” Chloe continued. “But actually I don’t think he meant to. That look wasn’t goodbye. I know what he looks like when he says goodbye, he has this noble and self-sacrificing face and it’s…” she tried to think of the right curse word “... it’s really _ bloody _ upsetting. But this time he looked like he was thinking about coming back. He said he would give it some thought and he doesn’t lie.” And then she couldn’t say anything else because she was crying too hard. 

The nun produced a genuine cotton handkerchief and gave her some space to sob into it. 

After a respectful interval she came back holding the two halves of the statue Lucifer had thrown at Harat, and held them out to Chloe.

The statue had shown an angel standing victorious over an ugly, horned creature. The winged figure had broken free from the base, leaving its foe lying alone.

“Archangel Michael defeating Satan,” said the nun. 

The sculptor had portrayed Michael as a beautiful humanlike man, standing legs wide and sword raised, a small piece of cloth magically attached to his hips to preserve his modesty. Lucifer had been shown as a snarling beast, with fangs as well as horns.

Mother Superior continued, “I know you have to go and leave all of this to us, but I was going to offer you Michael to watch over you.”

Chloe reached out and took the figure of Lucifer. “No,” she said. “No, this one’s mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> According to Google, there really is a monastery of nuns in Los Angeles. I don’t know why it’s not a nunnery. Google produced the Vegas story too. Everything else is probably incorrect due to my almost non-existent knowledge of nuns. Sorry. I hope it’s not disrespectful. It wasn’t meant to be.


End file.
